


Fear.

by outpastthemoat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, M/M, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outpastthemoat/pseuds/outpastthemoat
Summary: Fear leads to darkness.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41
Collections: QuiObi Secret Santa 2020





	Fear.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanerontheinside](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanerontheinside/gifts).



> The prompt was "Give me a quiet, unexpectedly romantic moment on a mission, two partnered Jedi acting so very married (even if they haven’t quite acknowledged that fact to themselves)."
> 
> I had the idea for this as soon as I read the prompt, but I couldn't figure out how to make it happen - strangely enough, it took a Toad the Wet Sprocket album to give me the last bit this story needed.
> 
> I hope you like it!!!

Fear leads to darkness; this is what the Jedi hold true. Other cultures, Qui-Gon has found, have differing attitudes toward fear. Respect fear, say the Togruta, for fear keeps you alive in your struggles against your enemies, and other worlds might even reject fear entirely, but the people of Ramataur hold fear to be the pinnacle of feeling, an exhilaration of emotion that all beings will be drawn to seek out. 

The Ramataur love the darkness; they are night-worshipers. Obi-Wan had translated the story for him the first night they arrived, the sky folding black and star-filled around their descending ship, of how night was the first mother, wrapping her children the Ramataur in a blanket made of air and stars and lying them to rest in the branches of the hiverwood. 

Perhaps the Ramataur do not fear the night because they live fully in the night for half their lives. Their suns appear over the horizon only for a short period each planetary year. 

“The Ramataur will celebrate the midwinter,” Obi-Wan had said, his voice low over the crackling of the fire, “the point between the last sunset and the first sunrise. On this night, the willing shall enter the hiverwood to learn what is on the other side of fear.”

Qui-Gon had listened to his familiar voice, the only perception of his former student that he had in the darkness. His former student, now a knight. 

He does not belong to me anymore, Qui-Gon had known. But then, he has known that for a long time.

He thought then of Anakin, waiting for him at the Temple, and could not find it in himself to be regretful of his absence. The boy was not prepared for a mission like this. Anakin was still fearful, still unwilling to turn his gaze inward and confront his strongest emotions. Obi-Wan had proved on Naboo that he was capable of turning his gaze inward and approaching his most deeply-held emotions. And Qui-Gon—

He has not been able to speak of the events that unfolded on that last mission. Not in the first days after waking from the healing trace he had been placed in, not in the months after that as he had fought and endeavored to regain his old strength, not in years since then that had been busy with work, and learning, but bereft of a certain feeling he had almost grown used to. 

Qui-Gon had settled down on the ground to sleep, Obi-Wan curled near him. It might have been Mandalore, or Ryloth, or Ord Mantell.

Now with Obi-Wan at his side, the ache that had settled into his chest since their parting is almost forgotten.

\---

On Ramataur, there are no true days, and therefore there are no true nights. Qui-Gon has not yet seen the sun, for all the days-of-night that he has spent on this world.

He wakes in darkness, and dresses himself in darkness; he patrols the hiverwood, alert for danger with every sense he has available to him but his sight. Then he returns to the camp where Obi-Wan is waiting, and as his former padawan heads off into the night to begin his own patrol, Qui-Gon falls asleep in the darkness.

It might be the lack of daylight that leaves him unsettled and awake; it is difficult to adjust to these conditions, even for a Jedi. But long after Obi-Wan has left their camp, Qui-Gon will lie by the low light of their fire, unable to sleep. And before long, he will find himself thinking of Naboo again.

Qui-Gon is no stranger to fear, as the Jedi know it. But he has not been able to shake the fear from him since the battle of Naboo, when he first heard the Sith forcing his padawan over the edge of the plasma generator. He had lain when he had fallen, trapped by his own diminished strength and unable to move, unable to stand and fight for the one he had sworn to protect. Only capable of listening, wondering if the Sith would kill his padawan quickly, and if he would hear it happen before he died of his own wounds. He had felt the dark side rising with each clash of lightsabers, and he been desperate to reach his padawan and pull him back over the edge. 

Qui-Gon had been so consumed with fear that he had not dared to reach out to his padawan with the Force, so afraid that he would encounter darkness where Obi-Wan's quicksilver light had been. But Obi-Wan had found his own path through the darkness.

Fear had come to live in him once the Sith plunged his lightsaber in Qui-Gon’s body, and had not left him, even after Obi-Wan had tethered him back to the Force and breathed life back into his lungs. Now fear lives in his body like a second breathing soul. 

_What do I do with this fear? I am a Jedi master. Have I learned nothing in all my days?_

He has reasoned with himself, meditated alone and with councilors, in the solitude of his rooms at the Temple and in the vast liveliness of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. 

_I cannot give into darkness_. 

And still it remains, despite his nightly meditations, exhorting himself to break past it, push through it. He will listen as Obi-Wan sleeps, counting each soft breath and waiting for the next, wondering again at the many ways he has discovered is possible to lose him, and how such a loss could possibly be borne.

\---

There are strings of days-of-night when he only encounters Obi-Wan in the brief moments when their shifts overlap. This, too, is familiar; there had been many missions where he had worked apart from his padawan, trusting Obi-Wan to discharge his duties and to take care of himself, then to fall back into step with him once restored to his master’s side. Back in those days, his fear had been a quiet, slumbering thing. There were always risks for a Jedi, but Qui-Gon had kept his padawan close, and even when they were apart, he could rely on their connection to alert him of danger.

_He is well-trained, and cautious_ , Qui-Gon would remind himself. _And the Force is with him._ And his fear had slept on.

Now his fear is awake. It bristles up under his skin, wary and alert, hearing danger in branches cracking underneath the heels of the villagers’ ilikskin boots and in the eerie movement of the hiverwood. And Qui-Gon has not been able to bring himself to seek his former padawan in the Force after their last connection, scorching violet light errupting into brilliance behind his eyes and scouring all of his senses.

Qui-Gon has brought along a heating coil and a canister of sapir leaves, and whenever there is an opportunity to keep Obi-Wan near, he finds himself preparing tea for the pair of them, as he has done so many times before.

Obi-Wan accepts the offered cup, and they drink together in silence. Obi-Wan is crouched over their fire, the angles of his cheekbones illuminated and hair gleaming ruddily. This shadowed light is the clearest he has seen his former student’s face since their arrival in the midst of Ramataur’s period of darkness. 

Qui-Gon is aware of the villages’ tension rising around them, trailing like fog along the campsite. Fear, there, of the hardships to come, and more: Fear of the many fears awaiting each petitioner who takes to the hiverwood.

“Fear of fear,” Obi-Wan says thoughtfully, when Qui-Gon mentions his perceptions. “When I was a padawan, it seemed as though there was always something to be afraid of. But you—I thought you never felt fear at all.”

Qui-Gon cannot help the chuckle that escapes him. “I was only better at hiding it, Obi-Wan.” 

He finishes the last of his tea. Then, running his fingers along the rim of his cup, he cannot resist asking, “And what do you fear, now that you are no longer a padawan?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze is steady upon the fire. “Nothing—anymore.”

It is not long after that when Obi-Wan stands up and disappears out of the ring of light, swallowed up by the hiverwood. And Qui-Gon settles down by the fire, wrapping his long body in his robe and letting his mind drift. In his dreams there are hands on his face and a voice calling out his name, and he is afraid to answer the call.

When he briefly wakes in the day-of-night, there is a figure pressing along his side. He reaches out and rests his hand on Obi-Wan’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of each breath under his palm, until the persistent rhythm draws him back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a second part still to come!!


End file.
